


Très Lent

by babykid528



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [11]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, M/M, Musicians, Orchestra, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babykid528/pseuds/babykid528
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is a world renowned Orchestra conductor. <br/>Zach is a clarinetist with more than a bit of a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Très Lent

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this photo](http://38.media.tumblr.com/47badbc94128042118b94f548db287c2/tumblr_nax8o5DeJq1sxytv0o3_500.png) and my recently intense nostalgia for the days when I was a member of every concert band, ensemble, and orchestra available to me in high school and college. <3

Zach has been playing the clarinet since he was eleven years old. Now, at thirty-seven, he’s one of the youngest members of the New York Philharmonic. That is, he’s one of the youngest _playing_ members.

Their _conductor_ is actually three years younger than him.

_Maestro Pine_. Chris, as he insists they refer to him, is barely out of diapers. Something Zach thinks frequently, despite their small age gap.

Chris is apparently some kind of trombone playing _marvel._ He was teaching master classes at Julliard while still a student himself, he’s classically  _and_ jazz trained, and he could have been the principal in the Boston Symphony or basically any symphony or philharmonic he set his sights on. But he wanted to conduct instead.

It was a sad day in the world of orchestral music when Chris Pine refused to become the world-renowned professional musician everyone was certain he was destined to be. It was also an overwhelmingly joyous day when the world of orchestral music realized just how brilliant he could be with a baton in his hand.

It was downright distracting, actually. Whole sections in written critiques to the concerts he led were devoted to his majesty and fluid technique. One particularly enamored critic - a Mr. Shatner, who happened to also be the most biting, ruthless, cruel critic to ever lay pen to paper - practically devolved into Shakespearean sonnets when it came to recounting the artistry that was Chris Pine’s conducting.

So, it’s a no-brainer that any legitimate group in the world would want him leading them. Even as a young thing of thirty-four.

Zach liked to think that he, better than anyone else, understood the music community’s fascination with Chris.

Zach had played in a number of orchestras and ensembles over the course of his lifetime. Many amateur groups, and almost a half-dozen highly impressive professional groups. As a result, he’s played under a lot of different conductors. Most, if not all, could be praised on their flawless, individual techniques and their abilities to keep the group in line and focused, while easily leading the group through piece after piece.

Chris, though, was unlike any conductor Zach had ever worked with.

He had the technique and the poise of a conductor far beyond his young years. So far beyond, in fact, he could practically milk the emotions he wanted conveyed out of thin air, like he was spinning the notes and chords into gold with just his hands. A modern day Rumplestiltskin: the score was his straw, the musicians his enchanted spinning wheel, and together they produced gold.

Zach had noticed, on more than one occasion, that a piece of music would end, and amidst the raucous applause, Chris would, openly and unabashedly, wipe his cheeks as they glistened with tears beneath the hot stage lights. More often than not, Zach would find himself crying in response.

For Zach, unlike Chris, that response was actually a great source of shame.

Not because he cried. No, Zach had a healthy appreciation for art in all forms and being open to the many ways that art can move you.

What Zach was really ashamed of was how obviously in love with his conductor he had become.

Zach had been playing in the Philharmonic for a year before Chris took over the baton. That was five years ago now. And for the entirety of those five years, or more accurately four years and three-hundred sixty-two and a half days, Zach had been hopelessly smitten with Chris.

Sometime in the mix of all those years and feelings, Zach’s crush had gone well beyond a crush into _I’m embarrassingly in love with you_ territory and there was nothing Zach could do about it.

Zach tried to rationalize to himself  _if Chris wasn’t so damn gifted,_ or  _if only Chris cared about the music a little less obviously_ , or  _if Chris would just stop glancing my way and offering me that sweet little smile_ then, maybe, he wouldn’t be so ridiculously in love.

But it was what it was, and there was no use imagining _what-ifs_.

—-

There’s a concert coming up quickly entitled “A Night with Debussy.”  _La Mer_  is set to be the feature.

A week before the concert, Zach finds out he’s playing principal clarinet because Leonard, who he usually plays second to, has the stomach flu. A woman named Zoe steps into the part of the second clarinet.

It should be a nerve-wracking moment. Everyone should be in a mild state of panic, actually. But Zach has always made it a point to learn both his and Leonard’s parts for every concert, and Chris, as always, is as cool as a cucumber.

At least, everyone assumes he is.

Zach knows differently.

He can see it in the way Chris is just slightly stiff on the upsweep of the second beat, right after he brings Zach and Zoe in. There’s the _slightest_ loss of fluidity in the way he leans into the motion, a small tensing of his shoulders, and it almost throws Zach off completely.

Zach is a professional though, so it only throws him off slightly. That’s just enough of a hitch in Zach’s playing for Chris to ask Zach to go for a walk with him to Chris’ office during their first fifteen minute break, though.

Once inside the office, Chris shuts the door and urges Zach to take a seat. He offers him a bottle of water, which Zach gladly accepts, and then Chris sits down in his desk chair and just slumps.

"I’m really sorry about that earlier," Zach says, breaking the silence. "I don’t know what came over me."

He says the lie like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. He really has had a number of conductors and, if Zach’s learned nothing else from all the previous  _maestros_ , he has learned it’s always best to apologize for a mistake even if it was not his fault. It’s a lesson that’s saved him from a number of rough arguments over the years.

Chris smiles ruefully in response and rubs at the stubble on his jaw.

"I know what happened," he says. "It was all me." 

For a moment, a big, terrifying moment, Zach thinks Chris must be able to see right through him and into his heart. His stupid heart, etched with Chris’ name and face and everything. Zach is sure Chris must know Zach is in love with him. Zach is sure Chris must think Zach was too busy mooning over him that it messed up his entrance.

And then Chris explains.

"I’m nervous up there," he says. "I apologize. I threw you off with my crappy lead. You seem to have been the only one to notice though, so I wanted to apologize in private. Keep anyone else from catching my nerves."

Zach relaxes then.

"You have a lot on your plate right now," He offers pathetically in consolation.

Chris just shakes his head.

"I don’t want you to think this is a reflection on you," he says. "I have every confidence in your musicianship, Zach. You play beautifully. I know the part is in the best hands. Don’t tell Leonard I said this, please, but you’re even better at this piece than he is."

Zach can feel his face heating at Chris’ praise.

He stutters a moment before replying simply, “Thank you.”

Chris brushes him off with a wave of his hand.

"It’s the truth," he says it so matter-of-factly, so _there’s-no-room-for-debate-here_ , that Zach just nods and accepts the praise for what it is instead of trying to deny it like his gut wants him to.

Chris scrubs his face with his palms then for a minute, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his face still covered in his hands.

Before he can think the better of it, Zach reaches out and wraps his fingers around Chris’ forearm. It’s a loose, barely there grip. The first time he’s ever touched Chris. Ever.

He marvels at the fact that Chris doesn’t push his hand away.

There are so many things he wants to say, so many heartfelt words of praise he’s imagined offering up, like a sacrifice to the gods; unworthy but all he has to offer.

No words will come, though.

After a moment Chris’ hands fall to the desk, Zach’s fingers shift across Chris’ skin in the process, and before he can pull his hand back Chris covers it with his own hand.

Startled, Zach looks from their hands to Chris’ anxious, but smiling, eyes.

"I might have to buy you a drink when this is all over," he says, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Zach blinks, unsure he heard him right.

"Me?" He asks, before he can think the better of it.

Chris’ smile spread across his lips then and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"You," He replies.

Zach can’t seem to form words, let alone a sentence. So he opts to smile meekly, and Chris squeezes Zach’s fingers beneath his, against his arm, before pulling away so he can stand.

"We better head back out there."

Zach nods, dumbfounded, and stands to follow Chris out.

"I’d like that," he says, finally, once they escape the confines of the enclosed office. "Getting a drink. With you."

Chris shoots him a sideways smile and his shoulders relax just slightly.

"Good."

He leaves Zach with a wink and then saunters back up to the podium to call everyone back to order.

After a few minutes of unrest, everyone in back in their seats, ready to give _La Mer_ another go.

This time, when he cues Zach and Zoe’s entrance into the theme, it’s more fluid. Like someone welcoming a cherished loved one into their arms. Zach is sure to answer Chris’ guiding motions with his own full, aching tone.

He’s not sure, but he thinks Chris might stifle a quiet laugh before averting his focus elsewhere to welcome more members of the orchestra into the piece.


End file.
